


Tissue Box Skyscrapers

by MissChioga



Category: Four Brothers (2005)
Genre: Our boys bond over tissue boxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChioga/pseuds/MissChioga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A seventeen year old Bobby bonds with an eight year old Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tissue Box Skyscrapers

It had only been a week that Jack had joined the Mercer house that Bobby had gotten fed up with the kid's rabbit like freak outs. The seventeen year old boy couldn't walk into the same room as the kid without the eight year old freezing up and trying to look invisible in that stupid black jacket that was five sizes too big for him. It pissed Bobby off.

He didn't like this kid being afraid of him. Sure, he thrived off of people's fear normally, had even thrived when Angel and Jerry had been afraid of him, but with this fragile little kid…it just pissed him off. He wanted to find whoever the people that had made him like that and burn them alive. No kid should be that afraid of anything, let alone a man who was soon going to be their older brother. It wasn't right.

…It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

He'd voiced it to Evelyn plenty of times over the week that Jack had been there, and the older woman, always eager to listen to her older son, had only told him that it would take time for the eight year old to get used to having three older boys in the house where nothing bad happened to him. It was unusual for Bobby to get bad advice from his mother, but he thought that was the worst thing that she could have ever said about the subject.

So the fuck what, he wasn't used to being around guys that didn't try to touch him inappropriately. He should see that they weren't like that here. He and his brothers were fucked up, Bobby would be the first to admit it, but they weren't fucked up like that. He still couldn't believe anyone was like that.

"So, do something about it Bobby." Evelyn sent Bobby a pointed look as she cooked dinner, "You found ways to bond with Angel and Jeremiah, why aren't you doing that now?"

The seventeen year old shrugged with an exaggerated huff, "Because the kid freezes up every time I walk into the same room."

"You're smart Bobby, you'll figure something out."

He huffed again, not liking the (in his opinion) cryptic words from his mother. This conversation, just like all of the others, was not helping him. It was rare that he would have a conversation with his mother that she didn't help him, and he was wondering if she didn't know how to handle this kid herself. Jack freaked out when he was around her too…maybe this kid was just too much for them. If he was too much for Evelyn, there was no way that this kid was going to get anyone to adopt him.

"Do you remember when you kept trying to throw out those tissue boxes that I saved when you first came here?"

Bobby, who had looked away from his mother and had started drawing patterns on the table with his finger, looked back up at Evelyn, "Yeah. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, two years later, after keeping those tissue boxes, do you remember when I brought Jeremiah home?" Evelyn shot him another look and he shrugged again, "You went out and I had to leave to go to the office and when we came back, we found Jeremiah building things with them."

The seventeen year old quirked an eyebrow, trying to remember what she was talking about, he had probably been high or something when he'd come home for that, the memory was foggy and when he hesitated in speaking, Evelyn sighed realizing probably why he couldn't recall it exactly.

"He had a whole city created in the living room, it was amazing really. Maybe you should try something like that. Jack seems like a very creative person, that might help him."

Bobby scoffed, "Come on Ma, the kid freezes like a fucking rabbit when I walk into a room, if I try to talk him into playing with your useless tissue boxes then he's going to think I'm crazier than he'd originally thought."

"Oh Bobby." The seventeen year old smiled slightly at the tone of his mother's voice, "You won't know unless you try."

"Yeah I guess."

He stood up, the chair screeching as it slid across the linoleum floor, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his mother alone to cook. Jack was probably upstairs, sleeping in the room that had originally been Bobby's but he was being forced to share with the kid. However, since the reactions from the eight year old, Bobby had been avoiding the room when the kid was in it, it wasn't worth freaking Jack out just to be able to sleep in his bed instead of on the couch.

"Hey kid." He pushed the door open, catching the kid sitting on his bed with a cigarette merely inches from his mouth.

Bobby hid his surprise at the eight year old smoking, and closed the door behind him softly to walk across the room and open a window.

"Look kid, I don't care what the fuck you do, but Ma's gonna smell the smoke if you don't open a fucking window to air the room out."

Jack was quiet for a moment before he took a quick puff off the cigarette for a moment, not meeting the seventeen year old Bobby's eyes, "Sorry."

"What?" Bobby looked at Jack, "I can't quite understand you when you fucking mumble."

"Sorry." The kid spoke louder this time, but it was still just slightly louder than a mumble and Bobby rolled his eyes in annoyance.

His impatience and temper was going to get the best of him if he didn't just do what Evelyn had told him to do. Get him to play with some empty tissue boxes.

Eight year olds did that right?

"Come on kid." Bobby used his head to indicate leaving the bedroom and Jack stared at him, unsure. The seventeen year old sighed and stood up from the other bed and walked to the still open door, looking back at the kid, "I'm not screwing around."

The eight year old looked at the cigarette in his hand and then back at Bobby as if worried that if he didn't go with the older man that he would get told on and kicked out. After a moment, he stood up and flicked the unfinished cigarette out of the window and walked to the door as well, but staying out of Bobby's reach.

With a look back at the kid with an annoyed and slightly disbelieving sigh, Bobby walked out of the doorway and down the stairs, opening the door to the basement and looking back for a moment before seeing the panic stricken look on Jack's face.

"I'm not going down there."

Bobby sighed again, "You don't have to, I just need to get something."

Jack looked unconvinced, and Bobby was worried that he was going to run back upstairs, maybe he should have thought this through and gotten the stupid boxes before he went up to the room and gotten him to come down. With another long sigh, Bobby ran a hand through his hair and shook his head; this kid was going to drive him fucking mad.

"I'm not gonna do shit to you kid, wait in the living room or whatever. I'll be right back."

Jack didn't move, and Bobby went down the stairs and into the basement, turning on the light and going carefully down the stairs where the large box filled, ironically, with boxes sat, waiting for someone to mess around with. He picked it up, surprised that it was actually heavy and stomped up the stairs. He could hear the television now on some cartoon that he was positive his mother had put on for the kid, and when he walked into the living with the box he saw that Jack wasn't even paying attention to the small television, in fact he was sitting on the edge of the couch and looking at the hall, eyeing Bobby and the large box that he was lugging into the room.

"What's in there?" Jack's voice was soft and reminiscent to the first time that he showed up on their doorstep with his social worker. Bobby felt bad again as he threw the box onto the ground and opened it, revealing the empty, and worse for wear, tissue boxes.

"I was thinking we could do something with these old things that Ma used to save. And then maybe we can convince her to throw these stupid things away."

Bobby smiled at the eight year old and Evelyn's voice rang into the living room from the kitchen, "Not on your life Bobby."

"Come on Ma."

"Not going to happen."

The seventeen year old laughed, "So, what d'you think?"

"Uh…" Jack seemed unsure, but Bobby could tell that his curiosity would get the better of him soon; he could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Okay."

"Alright, so get your ass down here and help me make something."

Jack nodded, his long blond hair flopping out of his face for a moment and giving Bobby a clear view of on the bruises from his last home that had yet to heal. Bobby looked away and grimaced for a moment before turning the large box over and letting the contents of it spill out onto the living room floor.

**\---**

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

Jack shrugged, "Nothing."

Bobby looked at the kid, finding it strange that he had a problem with just destroying things, but was interrupted from asking about it when Evelyn called them for dinner. The seventeen year old walked to the door, leaving the crushed tissue boxes, and went to the kitchen, ready to eat, when he noticed that Jack was holding back.

"Come on kid, time to eat."

Jack was looking at him with the same look that he had had when Bobby had caught the eight year old smoking in their shared room, "I'm not hungry."

"I don't give a shit, you're eating something." The harsh words came out from his mouth before Bobby could think and he glared down at the floor for a moment, thinking of his mother's words.

'As bright as Bobby is, he just does not like to think.'

"Look, it's time for dinner and you've been hiding up in our room all day, which means that you haven't eaten all day. You're to fucking skinny as it is, you gotta eat."

Jack looked at the seventeen year old, his expression unchanged as he watched the older man, "Fine."

"Good, now let's go. I'm starving."


End file.
